


The Outsider

by K_Hanna_Korossy



Category: The Sentinel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 09:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5824246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Hanna_Korossy/pseuds/K_Hanna_Korossy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellison wasn't the only one in the department Blair Sandburg had to win over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Outsider

First published in _Sensory Overload 8_ (2003)

 

There's a reason cops stick together and don't trust civilians.

Most people, of course, don't get it. They can't understand what it's like to go to work every day knowing you might not come home again. Riding around your beat mostly bored and just a little bit tense all the time, never knowing what the next call might bring. Relying on the guys you work with to back you up immediately if you ever get into trouble, maybe saving your life. Having the authority, sometimes even the responsibility, to take someone's life, and knowing you'll be scrutinized and dissected if you do. Seeing the worst human beings can do to each other, and meeting good people on the worst days of their life.

Don't tell me a civilian understands that, or that they've thought about that for even a second as they stare at you and call you names and wave to you with one finger. Yeah, being under literal fire brings cops together. But it's being under fire daily just for carrying a badge that really unites us. Against them.

So I've never been too gung-ho about having civilians around the department, no matter what they're there for. Definitely not in Major Crimes, where I'd be tripping over them and having to watch what I say. Besides Rhonda, Captain Banks's secretary, who's been here long enough to know what's what, civilians don't belong in one of Cascade PD's highest-level departments.

Especially not long-haired, academic, flower-child throwbacks.

I was out doing my job on the streets when Banks made the announcement that Blair Sandburg would be with us for a while, or you can bet I would have said something right there. Didn't take long for me to get the news, though. The kid was doing some kind of research paper on cops and so was going to be riding along with Ellison for a while. Great, just what we need, another paper on how much of a closed societies cops are and how we could do our job a lot better. It wouldn't be the first or last time we had some wanna-be professor riding along with us, thinking he was one of us and that he was getting some kind of new perspective no one had had before. The paper would be written, his rep would be made, the newspapers would write a few pieces trashing us for not using the professor's brilliant suggestions, and then everybody would forget about us until the next professor came along. I was really surprised Banks went for it – I thought more of the cap than that.

What bothered me even more was, why didn't anybody wonder why this long-haired rebel was interested in us in the first place? At least most of the professors we got had the usual short, gray hair and tweed suit and – to fit in – baseball caps or sneakers, usually one or the other. Real ivory-tower twits who were probably living out some kind of boyhood fantasy. This kid, he looked like he wished he'd been around in the Sixties so he could have thrown rocks and rotten fruit at us. They that hard up for research opportunities at the University? Maybe we weren't his first choice. A know-it-all kid with an axe to grind – this was getting better and better.

And then there was the whole part about riding with Ellison. Who'd have thought Ellison, about as closed as you get, would agree to this, even if Banks had? Maybe he didn't have a choice, either – Banks hasn't been too happy with him lately. But if the professor thought he was gonna get much out of Iron-jaw Ellison, well, it was almost worth having him around just to see him fall on his face trying.

I made sure I was out the day the professor was supposed to start. There's usually plenty to do out on the streets and it avoids the paperwork, so I'm always all for that, anyway. And I was sure I'd get to meet our resident hippie before too long. So I had a really great, noble reason for being out of the building when Garret Kincaid took it over and laid siege to the Cascade Police Department.

Talk about your first day being hell.

Friends of mine were killed that day, good cops who were doing their job and who never expected the bad guys to be coming after them on our own home turf. I'll never forget I wasn't there to fight beside them, and why. Sandburg was trapped in the building with Kincaid, and for a while I didn't care if he made it out alive or not. There had been a lot of other people in danger in there who I was worried about a lot more.

I'm still not sure exactly what happened. I heard Sandburg took out one or two of Kincaid's men, although I'm not sure I believe that. It'd be just the kind of story those professors would use to get in good with us. But I was there when he landed on the roof with Ellison. The kid was shaking so hard with reaction, there was no doubting he'd been in the middle of things. Ellison was the real hero, of course – I haven't seen a stunt like him on that 'copter except in movies – but, okay, the kid handled himself all right. At least he hadn't been a major liability. Didn't mean I didn't laugh when he got sick after and ran downstairs to puke his guts out.

Ellison gave me a hard look that shut me up despite myself before going after Sandburg. Huh. Who would have figured he'd have heard me from across the roof? Or that he cared, for that matter?

It was the first time I noticed things were different with this kid.

The serial murder case of David Lash involved just about everyone in Major Crimes some way or another. Despite the TV and movies, serial murderers aren't that common, and when one hits a city, every cop is on alert. It was officially Ellison's case, but we were all tracking down leads, talking to people, trying to catch the guy before he killed again.

Rumor had it Sandburg had made a few good connections in the case and was helping with the suspect psych profile. Terrific. Any help is good usually, but what an anthropologist knew about psychology or serial killers was beyond me, even though Ellison and Banks didn't seem to be wondering. And I wasn't the only one who didn't take kindly to our little observer taking such an active role. The only surprise was he didn't screw up the case more than he did. From what I heard, he let Lash get away at the funeral, then it turned out later he'd been working with the guy and hadn't even known it! And then there were the leaks to that dirtbag reporter – if I would have been Banks, I would have canned the kid right there, maybe even brought him up on charges.

No wonder he got himself kidnapped by Lash.

Don't get me wrong – I wouldn't have wished that on him. I'd seen the photos and path reports, and I wouldn't have wished Lash on somebody I hated. Sandburg only annoyed me. But you get involved in our world without the proper training, the proper respect, and you're gonna get burned.

Ellison didn't take it so well.

Now, I didn't know Jim Ellison much at that point. I'd only been in Major Crimes about a year, and while I'd shared a few beers with him after work, did some cases together along with other guys from the department, and heard the usual rumors, more impressive than usual in Ellison's case, I couldn't say I really knew the man. He didn't ever talk about himself, and I knew more about his take on the Jag's current season than about what he thought or felt about anything else. Which was fine with me. Some people, especially in our line of work, never go beyond that. Different cops cope different ways with what we see and do each day, you know? As long as he was a good cop and wasn't a pain to work with, we were good.

But this wasn't the Ellison I'd gotten to know. This man was upset – oh, it wasn't obvious, but you don't get to be a detective without knowing how to read people. Tense frame, clenched jaw, dark stare . . . fear in the eyes. That was weird. I'd have understood it more if he'd gotten to be friends with Sandburg, but he always seemed to be yelling at the professor whenever I saw them. And this wasn't exactly worry, anyway, more like . . . desperation. Like he would be in trouble if he lost the kid. Which he would be – you don't just lose civilian observers. Who'd have thought Ellison, bit of a rebel himself, cared that much about his career?

Somehow, he and the lab worked out where Lash was keeping Sandburg, and there was a spectacular last-minute rescue. I know 'cause I was part of mop-up, and you don't find a body full of holes that's fallen a couple of stories without a real whopper of a story behind it. I was looking forward to hearing it from Ellison that night over a beer, or maybe the next day if he ended up in the hospital overnight, which wouldn't have surprised me from the scene in front of me.

And then I saw him holding an almost-hysterical Sandburg, trying to calm him down. Looking a lot calmer himself, actually, at least until the paramedics got there. I actually saw one of them take a step back at the glare Ellison gave her. Banks looked like he was ready to step in when Ellison snapped out of it, but . . . man. Talk about protective. The guy definitely cares about his career.

Or maybe that wasn't it. I didn't see him that night at Buoy's, or the next day at work. He would be on leave until the shooting board convened, of course, but rumor had it he was home babysitting Sandburg. Seems the professor had moved in with Ellison somewhere along the line.

Well, that explained a lot of things. Who'd have thought Ellison, ex-military and all that? My respect for the man took a real nosedive. The news reports that made him out to be the hero of the Lash case things didn't help any. Or the next few weeks.

The kid had a way of getting into trouble that I would've laughed at if I'd seen it on a TV show, but there it was, happening for real. On one case, Sandburg was supposed to get close to the daughter of a suspect, find out what she knew, and he ended up falling for her. Okay, so he did like girls and I'd been wrong about him and Ellison, but that left me back to square one as to why Ellison put up with the professor. Sandburg ended up getting himself knocked out and almost killed on that one, with Ellison coming to the rescue again.

You'd have thought that would have been an eye-opener, but next thing I know, ex-Army Ranger Ellison is taking the kid to Peru to find the missing captain and his kid. He managed to despite Sandburg, and it was then I gave up. Obviously, we here at Major Crimes were really a bunch of babysitters, not one of the most experienced departments in the CPD. I didn't even bother to shake my head when Sandburg got himself concussed on the high-profile Angie Ferris case. Ellison came out of it bruised and bloodied, too, but that was probably from saving Sandburg's behind again.

That was when I started writing a letter to the commissioner. This was wrong. Sandburg probably had something on Ellison and Banks, or maybe they were just blind, but a civilian who was too involved, saw too much and had too much power, and routinely got himself in trouble, wasn't doing anybody any favors. Maybe nobody else was gonna say something – even the other captain, Taggert, seemed to have fallen under the Sandburg spell – but I was. I'd be damned before I'd let some civilian pet the bullpen's gotten fond of put my life at risk, too.

And then, slowly, things started to change.

By now, no one seemed to think anything of it that Sandburg, a civilian observer, was going undercover on cases. But with the Iceman, you had to admire his guts. I would rather have gone up against Lash than against the German hitman any day. Sandburg got himself shot for his efforts – lucky for him he was wearing a vest – but from what I heard, he didn't embarrass himself on this one, might have even helped some. Of course, I saw the girl he was protecting and she was no eyesore, so maybe the professor wasn't being completely sacrificial, but, well, you had to give him some credit.

Then there was the bomb on the oil rig. I only heard about that one after the fact; miles offshore is a little out of our jurisdiction. But Ellison was boasting about it when they came back as if he'd done the deed himself, and soon it was all around the station. Sandburg had defused a bomb with no training and a few seconds left on the clock, saving the rig's crew, when he could have taken off and saved his own skin. The kid never even said a word about it that I saw, it was all Ellison.

Maybe he didn't have brains, but he sure had nerve. And he didn't toot his own horn, either. He probably would have made a decent cop if he'd gone the normal route, through the academy. But it still wasn't right putting a civilian into these conditions. I kept working on my letter to the commissioner, for both my sake and Sandburg's now. He'd probably get himself killed before anyone else. Him or Ellison.

Ellison had changed a lot over the seven months Sandburg had been with the department. Like I said, there was always a stand-offishness to the guy that wasn't so strange in a cop, but that never went away, even when he was off-duty with the rest of the guys. Like he didn't have any feelings. Some guys don't – they do the job, never feeling a thing, until their body gets sick of it and they have a heart attack. Most of us drink and joke the memories away, and every once in a while wake up sobbing. I hadn't been able to picture Iron-jaw Ellison doing that. He was a tough one, a loner in life and on the job.

But now . . .maybe the professor wouldn't let him stay clammed up. The kid certainly talked enough – seemed he was always explaining and asking and lecturing. At first, Ellison got annoyed and ignored him, then over time he started to listen, and now he actually discussed. The professor had calmed down along the way, too. Maybe they were good for each other, the super-cop and the academic? Seemed like they'd both relaxed. And for a cop, that meant he had somebody he trusted at his back, which didn't make sense to me. The kid didn't even carry a gun, or probably know how to use one. From his looks, I'd have bet he was a gun-control freak. But I couldn't argue the effect I saw them having on each other.

Not that that excused putting a civilian in harm's way.

Okay, so he did a good job on the next big case, too, another undercover act as a truck driver. Even his flake of a mom showing up didn't shake his act, which is pretty impressive; a lot of cops wouldn't have been able to recover as fast. It didn't surprise me he was a decent actor. What did was that he kept his wits when things got bad. That's something not even the academy can completely prepare you for, only experience.

Our civilian observer was starting to act more seasoned than some of our newer beat cops, and I'd be damned if I knew how.

I didn't send the letter yet. I guess I was waiting, I wasn't sure for what.

I found out soon.

Unbelievably, Sandburg got himself kidnapped again, this time by the same goons who'd apparently made off with his old girlfriend, the suspect's daughter. I'd have laughed – who ever got kidnapped more than once in their life? – except it wasn't really funny. These were gun- and probably drug-runners, not the kind you wanted to mess with. There was a good chance Sandburg wouldn't make it out alive. And, for once, I wasn't the least bit interested in saying "I told you so."

Ellison had that intense look again, a man on a mission and God-help-you if you got in his way. With a minimum of words, he made it clear we were getting the professor back, no matter what. And as I'd stared at him, trying not to shake my head over being in this situation one more time, I realized it wasn't exactly like before, after all. Ellison was still tense, still angry and desperate. But it wasn't fear in his eyes. God help me, it was anguish. The kind you felt when you were worried about somebody you cared about. And, for that one moment, Ellison didn't care who knew it.

I'm not sure exactly who put what pieces together to find Sandburg and his girl. I do know the girl ended up being not quite the victim she seemed, which made me feel for the kid – hadn't taken a detective to see how much he was in love with her. But it seemed like he had bigger problems to worry about when we got to the docks, mopping up as usual after an Ellison rescue/rampage. It was dark and raining but you could still see the bodies everywhere, a dozen emergency vehicles, and about a week's work for the crime scene guys. I didn't envy them. Our job was just to take the bad guys into custody and talk to witnesses, and there weren't too many living ones of either. It gave me time to look around, check out what happened to Ellison and Sandburg.

The professor was over by the ambulance, saying good-bye to his lady, while Ellison took care of some business and gave him space. He went back to Sandburg when they took the girl away, and that was the first good look I got at the kid. He was too white and looked a little shaky, no doubt in part from the butterfly bandage above one eye. I was surprised Ellison didn't look more worried until I saw Sandburg shake off the detective's concern. They still had a Fed to talk to, whom they soon referred to Banks, and then they turned to leave.

I was about to go back to doing my job when I saw the professor suddenly buckle, almost hitting the ground before Ellison caught him. Guess he'd gotten hit harder than either of them had thought. I watched with a frown as Ellison practically carried him over to the ambulance, an arm around the kid's waist, this time ignoring Sandburg's attempts to wave him off. In fact, he pretty much ignored Sandburg completely as he talked to the paramedic . . . except for the arm he kept around him to make sure he wouldn't fall over. The two of them finally got Sandburg aboard the ambulance. Ellison looked around for a minute, spotted me, and tossed me his keys with a yelled request to take his truck back to the station. I just nodded, and the last I saw of either of them that night was Ellison climbing into the ambulance to go in with the kid.

I didn't see them again for two days. This time, the circulating joke about Ellison looking after Sandburg was respectful and fond, not scornful. And when they did show up again, Sandburg trying not to look woozy and Ellison trying not to hover, they were both welcomed back. By me, too.

I guess it was about then I started hearing the term "partners" used about them, and started thinking about them that way myself. I couldn't say exactly when or where that changed, 'cause Sandburg's still a civilian and still, technically, shouldn't be here, even though he's got more experience and a better clearance rate than some of our lower-rung detectives. There are those, mostly in other departments, who resent him for it, which doesn't surprise me. Technically, he _doesn't_ belong here.

But in every other way he does. He puts himself on the line as much as any of us, with more loyalty and enthusiasm than a lot of us, for no pay and a lot of danger and hassle. More importantly, I've seen him a lot now with Ellison, seen how comfortable the two of them have gotten with each other. I've seen Ellison become more focused, more comfortable in his skin, and a better cop because of the professor's influence. And I've seen the kid grow into a man, tried and tested in a way he never would have been at his comfortable university, finally having found his place, too. He's earned the right to be here, as good a cop as most of the guys in blue I know, and . . . I trust him. I think all of us in this department do by now. Wouldn't surprise me if he did go through the academy one day, and got graduated straight into Major Crimes. I don't know what happened to his research paper, but somehow I don't think that's very important anymore. I know a partnership when I see one, and good partners are a lot harder to come by.

I finally threw out my unfinished letter to the commissioner. I never thought I'd hear myself say it, never could have logically explained it. But Blair Sandburg, sworn or not, is one of us now.

And we stick by our own.

The End


End file.
